


First Snow

by Mandibles



Series: Teen Wolf Winter Advent Calendar thing [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Snow, Winter, bby lizard!Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based on <a href="http://ilysano.tumblr.com/">ilysano</a>'s lovely <a href="http://ilysano.tumblr.com/tagged/bby-lizard/chrono">bby lizard</a> series on Tumblr. </p><p>December 1st. It doesn't snow in Beacon Hills often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Snow

Stiles read somewhere that cold-blooded animals—like, heh, Jackson, actually—take on the temperature of their surroundings. They’re active when they’re warm, when their metabolism’s up, but lethargic and sluggish when the temperature gets lower.

So, once it hits December, once the clock ticks closer to their usual dinner time and Jackson’s scaly green butt is nowhere to be seen, Stiles isn’t surprised to find him in the living room, asleep in the armchair—Jackson’s armchair—that sits closest to the window.

He’s on the head of the armchair, actually, sprawled across the top and facing out the window, his thick tail hanging behind him, curled around one of his little legs. It’s funny, because Jackson’s just this fat little lizard thing, about the size of a small dog, and it’s such a contrast from Jackson’s slim, toned lacrosse body that it still makes Stiles snicker as he approaches in quiet steps.

Stiles traces his finger up the triangular spikes along Jackson’s spine in a simple, casual gesture and pulls the curtain to the side to peek out.

The sky's grey outside, getting darker,  and—and, shit,  it’s _snowing_ of all things, tiny white flakes drifting down in the light from the streetlights and forming crystalline frost on the window. Snow doesn’t happen often in Beacon Hill’s, so it’s unsurprising that his neighbors are already out in puffy coats and wool beanies,  kids running about in the thin layer of snow on the ground while the adults watch from their porches.

Stiles grins.

“Heyyy,” he whispers, rubbing roughly at Jackson’s head to stir him. “Hey, Jackson, wake up.”

Nothing happens, not really,  just a sharp flick of tail, so Stiles nudges him a little harder.

“Come on, dude! It’s snowing!”

That spurs Jackson to crack a yellow eye, then both that blink muzzily out the window. He hisses, low. _What the hell—_

Stiles laughs and settles his chin besides Jackson’s. His fingers drum down his spindly spine. “Yeah, isn’t it cool?”

Jackson doesn’t answer, but he makes an excited, chirping noise, the only sound he can make besides hisses. His tail swings this time, back and forth, before find it accidently hits Stiles’ wrist and, in a breath, curls around it.

Anxiety, electric and sharp, shoots up Stiles’ arm, tearing his eyes away from the window. He swallows thickly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, _Oh, this is—this is—Oh._

While Jackson stares outside, spellbound by the powder that blankets tree limbs, cars, lawns, Stiles’ eyes are caught by the simple, silent gesture of—of _something_ , something that he can’t be sure how to name but knows that he wants, really wants.

So, after the panic passes, after he regains air he didn’t know he lost, he wraps his trembling hand around Jackson’s tail, a silent, “Yes,” to a question he isn’t even sure is being asked.


End file.
